"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

viral

Check out my interview in @Macleans Magazine

After the Toronto terrorist attack perpetrated by an Incel misogynist last month, I tweeted about the ludicrous male entitlement and fragility that make up “incels.” The tweet subsequently went viral and I received in response a deluge of obscene, disgraceful, inhuman, and sexually-harassing messages from angry white dudebros online. So I fought back and it was the sheer act of fighting back that made my original tweet go even farther online than I imagined. I gained 1000+ new Twitter followers in 24 hours, my tweet was liked over 5000 times, and it was screencapped & shared in FB groups all over the internet.  It was a crazy period.

As a result, Maclean’s Magazine published a piece about incels, misogyny, and the fight against targeted harassment of women. Friend Andray Domise interviewed me and others about fighting against online harassment, and the piece was published recently. It’s a really great piece, of which you should read in full, but here’s a section which contains a snipped of my interview:

With this in mind, I’ve recently sold two essay pitches to two different magazines, one of which will deal with the ongoing oppression and subjugation of women, and I can’t wait to share them with you when they’re published.

Check out more of my press interviews and media profiles on my official website Christine Estima dot com!

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Word up, hombres!

20121210-105054.jpg

Well hello traffic spike! Yesterday was a very busy day for The Spadina Monologues, and I’m sure most of that is due to the lovely folks over at Eurail.com linking me up on their Facebook page. They have been my awesome European-extravaganza-benefactors and have been very encouraging and supportive for the kind of rail journey that I wanted to take.

So fanks for the linkage guys! And welcome new readers! Check out my Eurail 2012 category for all the posts on my journey thus far!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to Dropbox like its hot.


It’s a Twitter Miracle! Starring Eric McCormack & Christine Estima as herself

i should have known those two would be friends! ah LeVar, every time we interact, it gives me a lil tingle on the inside.

And this, my friends, is why you should all be on Twitter.

New York is such an amazing place. One where you can have lame Adrian Grenier hang times one week, and then amazing Eric McCormack hang times the next week.

Alright, I am officially celebrity-hang-timed-out. Leave me alone, famous people. NO PICTURES!

*CoughYeahRightNeverLeaveMeCough*


and I spelled ‘theatre’ the Canadian way, too


has a celebrity retweeted me and i’m missing it? cuz this tweet of mine has gone a bit stupid now.

it’s a decent amount of RTs, but nothing will ever top this tweet of mine which is still being RT’d to this day.

every day is a good day to go viral.

see you on the twatter, munchkins!


Nyan Cat takes to the streets

If you don’t know what Nyan Cat is, CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY. but just so that you are subjected to the awful meme that the rest of us had to endure last year, here is the original video that took over the world.

ANOTHER REASON WHY THE JAPANESE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO MAKE MUSIC.

anyway, why bring this up?


someone near dundas street west and dovercourt hates us all.

damn you Nyan Cat.

damn you all to hell.


Justin Bieber and I are doing the nasty


i stupidly tweeted this on saturday night.


which resulted in this guy (the one with over 21,000,000 followers) retweeting me.


see?

(click to enlarge)

….and because of this, it resulted in me being bombarded by those fucking Beliebers. I could not keep up with the thousands of Belieber tweets, RTs, favourites, and follows being directed my way PER SECOND, that STILL hasn’t properly let up yet. Now my twitter feed stinks of the most horrifying thing in the world — puberty. I wouldn’t wish this kind of attention on any other 31 year old woman.  He’s a 16 year old boy! What the fuck does he know about anything, other than X-box and masturbation? So why do SO MANY Beliebers treat him like a religious experience? He looks like a moderately powerful pokemon. He’s only famous because he repeated the word BABY more than any other human being in a 3 minute period…. like an autistic child in a maternity ward. That’s not musical talent, that’s a mental illness.

AND his voice sounds like a fox fucking a bagpipe.

Those Beliebers are TERRIFYING! They look like the sort of people you’d find in a Maury Povich holding pen. I betcha if Justin told them to go fuck themselves, they’d give it a shot.

Now from what the Beliebers tell me, there are millions of girls who would kill to get an RT from Justin…. like I should be grateful that I was noticed by a boy who was a ZYGOTE when i was in junior high. If that’s true, then millions of girls need to aspire to greater things in life.

Look Justin, fanks for the RT and all, but you have cursed me with the burden of your crazy hormonal tween fans who would kick the face off a badger to get your attention …  and by extension, now my attention.

I will never buy your music, nor will I go to one of your concerts. The only thing that would ruin a Justin Bieber concert would be if my gun jammed.


this is what’ll happen if you ain’t giving your girl what she needs

i’ve known phil for a few years now, and his joie-de-vivre never ceases to amaze me! his dancing youtube videos are a testiment to his passion for life (it’s also given him a rockin’ bod!). a few weeks ago, he posted this video in response to ellen degeneres’ dancing challenge. it has since made the rounds around the toronto webernet, everywhere from Spinner to Fuck Yeah Toronto has covered it.

oh, and he got the attention of ELLEN! look, he made it onto her show! BIG PHILLY STYLES!!

of course, phil dancing on the subway is my all-time favourite video of his. sure, he’s danced with ke$ha and what not, but ke$ha’s voice sounds like a fox fucking a bagpipe. Kylie is way more fun.

enjoy phil ville! not only will you laugh your sillies out, you’ll be left with nothing but a warm heart.


I’m in the London Telegraph, no biggie…

back in january, i blogged about the Egypt protest TwitPic i shared that somehow ended up going viral, getting well over 30,000 views in just a few days. 12 months later, The London Telegraph has named my TwitPic one of The Most Discussed Twitter Pictures of 2011.

click the above image to check out my lil’ shout-out.

i’m well chuffed, not gonna lie.


this one time, on the internet …

late last night i tweeted this, and i broke the internet.

then this happened:

and then this followed:

until i somehow became the top tweet in the category:

unlike old twitter where you could see exactly how many people RT’d you, new twitter doesn’t allow you to see beyond 100 RTs, so i have no clue how many times this was RT’d. by the massive cornucopia of mentions that were vomited all over me in the period of a few hours, i’m going to estimate it was somewhere hovering around the 500-600 mark, but really, who knows.

my follower count jumped well over 3,000 too.

tweets of mine have gone viral before (see here and here for previous examples) but those occurred by and large because a celebrity RT’d me to get the ball rolling. in this case, i couldn’t find a celeb or an influential tweeter who RT’d me. so i guess i struck a nerve.

in any case, hello new readers and followers! you have excellent taste.

now shut up and show me your tweets.


blame it on my ADD baby

i am officially a meme.

this photo was taken just over 4 years ago when i lived in the UK, on a national express bus from oxford to london. i had been particularly emotional that day, as everyone in oxford was in groups, or in pairs, and there was lonesome me. i was so lonely, it ate away at me like a locust. the next egyptian-like plague, known as my boyfriend, was just about to befall me in a week’s time, but right before this photo was taken, i had actually been crying. not the kind of crying that screws up your face and makes veins pop. something softer, something only you know you’re doing. ironic that this one photo is meme’d with a FUCK YEAH. i certainly didn’t feel that way at the time.

also, look at how different i looked back then! what’s with my eyebrows?

*   *   *

i went to the press screening of Forks Over Knives this week and wrote this film review. seriously, planet, when this film opens, you are REQUIRED to go see it. this is a short documentary of unimaginable brilliance, astute observations, and such a tight-shoe-string budget that you can’t help but love its lack of flash and pizzaz. it could use a bit of rearranging, as some sequences have choppy editing and a confusing non-linear-ity (so not a word, but whatever), but you won’t forget it’s message for a long time. read my review, and watch the trailer below. enjoy!

*   *  *

i cannot get over how sexy this song is.

i like riding in the back of  half-empty streetcars with boys. windows all around, surrounded by cars. awash in lights. but our eyes our glazing over at the heat from the freshly-bloomed season. the night ties its ends to our appendages, and we can’t untie ourselves without moaning, or attracting attention from the other streetcar riders.

i say something about ‘riding the rocket’ and we collapse into giggles.

*   *   *

the thing about street art is, it’s ephemeral, it’s livable, it’s democratic, it’s untamed, and you aren’t intimidated by gallery owners whose shoes cost more than you make in a year. you can enjoy art and comments on society for free, on your way to work.

remember how whilst in new york city i found that tom hanks sticker that was awfully clever? turns out, it’s part of an entire sequence!


hansky, you had me at splash.

reg and i meet up after work and i end up buying the sunglasses i had two years ago whilst in india but then sat on and broke. i remember paying $14 for them in kensington market. i find them for $6.80. kensington you thief of hearts. reg and i have a sushi dinner and we’re talking about the things in life that concern us like we can’t figure out how to muddle our way through ourselves. the advice we give the other is so simple, so straightforward, so no nonsense, but we can’t bring ourselves to direct that advice at ourselves. i wondered if i was being rude, and our waiter was kinda insane.

i spent a few hours at tequila bookworm writing in my journal, and ended up finishing it off. i have kept a written journal since the age of 7. i can go back and revisit my life any time i want because i recorded things i did, feelings i felt, experiences i had, people i met, all meticulously. we’re living in interesting times, but memories fail. now is the time to record things.

i’m looking at my bookshelf right now, and en entire row is full of my life’s journals. the places i’ve been, the men i’ve loved, the friends i’ve lost, the people i’ve hated.

sometimes i wonder what i’ll do with this record of my life. will i bury it? will i publish it? will i give it to my grandkids? i might just end up burning them. if people ever really knew the real me, the things that even i don’t like to admit to myself, i wonder what would happen.

you’ll realize that you never really know a person.

speaking of india, i have to start a new journal now, and i’m going to use the leather-bound, hand-crafted journal i bought in Udaipur for 250 rupees (which is like a couple bucks when you convert it).


before and after. which would you rather have on your wall?

don’t remove street art, or we’ll cock-ify you.

so remember in my last post i mentioned how sick i had been on friday and had to take the day off work. well that day, a gift arrived at my desk, so i only received it on monday upon my return. there was no name on it, no return address, no one to thank.

whoever it was clearly knows me well, as they sent me SOY milk, coffee, and a nice mug. but who sends stuff to my office? and takes such meticulous care to wrap it up? and doesn’t leave their name? my tweeple (follow me on twitter, by the way) think it’s a secret admirer, but wouldn’t a secret admirer at least leave some clues? at least one hint?

it’s probably a work colleague or business associate.

still, i think the 16 year old girl in me wants it to be a secret admirer. how romantic.

i found my first sheppard fairey andre-the-giant-obey sticker in NYC recently, and then i found my first sheppard fairy TORONTO sticker a few weeks ago. and now, they’re everywhere. here’s one i found on queen west near ryerson avenue.

and then another, even better-placed sticker, just a few poles down from the first. i don’t know when sheppard fairey was last in toronto, but next time he’s here, i want to usurp his wife. just sayin.

i’m having fun with editing photos lately, this will reoccur now and then, get used to it, my darling munchkins.

i went to the exclaim anniversary party at wrongbar, saw juno winner Shad perform whilst eating wasabi mashed potatos and raw veggie spring rolls. it was actually almost better than last years party. i love how the places i write for invite me to epic city-wide shit.

i’m sorry, i can’t hear you over the sound of my awesomeness.

so i’m walking along after work and i find this amazing wheatpaste piece of artistic genius! it’s FORDZILLA! rob ford, the mayor and well-known art terrorist, portrayed as a godzilla eating our streetcars.

this man is horrifying, but this artistic rendering is actually rather proportional. he’s in the exact same shape as the death star he’s building.

then i’m walking along queen near augusta, and look, i find another one (photo edited to look wicked-cool). now he’s eating a spray can, because of his war on graffiti artists. luckily, someone was smart enough to label him a skinhead here.

HEY TORONTO STREET ARTIST WHO IS MAKING THESE FORDZILLAS, PLEASE CONTACT ME. I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIENNNNNNNND.

my mother is pretty dangerous, it’s true, she is a broken down construction site near baldwin village as well.

MUM QUIT WITH THE BLOG-READING AND MAKE WITH THE FOOD.

i ain’t going no where.

here’s another bit of street art (cleverly enhanced with editing) i found on queen west.

this is hauntingly beautiful, arresting really. the only name i could find on it is written vertically up the side, that says ‘deadboy’ but a google search reveals nothing. who are you, artist?

deadboy, did you love someone? did you lose someone?

these are the things i wonder about when i’m riding the subway back and forth between uptown and downtown, trying to read my commuter-convenient novel, but am more fascinated by the living.


kings may come and then go, having sex in the snow

the newspaper headlines reporting bin laden’s death.

compare and contrast.

i took this photo on monday morning and posted it online. within 24 hours, it had over 1200 views. i’d classify that as verging on viral.

it’s official. we have replaced ethics for hype.

having a headline like this detracts from the important issues that people actually care about.

this is pure knee-jerk, reactionary editorializing on the front page that is meant to anger people and appeal to their baser instincts instead of allowing them to form their own opinions from the news. this is here just to sell papers, rather than offering facts on the issue. also the word ‘hell’ in there implies religious connotations that not everyone subscribes to. even religious people would have to agree that “rot in hell” is not a very ecumenical statement and is not endorsed by any church. editorials have no place on front page headlines, and this newspaper, by refusing to hold any issue’s feet to the fire, is calling into question the intelligence of its readers. whether or not bin laden deserved what he got isn’t the question.

when we dumb down the issues to something like this, nobody wins.

the appropriate response to hate is NOT more hate.

*   *   *

so for  hockey election night in Canada, i was invited down to CityTV broadcast headquarters to attend #CityVote, an event where, in their own words, “high-profile tweeters” (that’s so going in my bio) gathered to live-tweet the election and the results, without getting arrested by Elections Canada.


that’s me, doing my job credibly in-studio via UberSocial Twitter on Blackberry

and that’s one of my tweets flashing across the broadcast.

it was a great event, attended by some great twitter-buds and tweethearts of mine, and we were all pretty much in agreement that basically:

The Stache is Da Man.

Also Stephen Harper can now resume building his deathstar in peace.

canadians can’t even do this.

fuck this, i want to see Harper’s long-form birth certificate.

i am extremely excited about Jack Layton and the NDPs political coup in decimating the Liberals as the official opposition, and i’m also so happy for Elizabeth May as the first Green Party Member of Parliament, but now that we have a Harper majority, i can say this, without hyperbole, that this will be the last time we see democracy in action again in this country. hope you enjoyed that.

fucking Fat Alberta, good for nothing province, i blame you for this election. we should invade that province, the only thing they have to defend themselves with is plastic knives and forks, and fucking fat cowboys.

interestingly enough, i wrote this article about the politics surrounding the battle for Trinity-Spadina the day before the election for rabble.ca, a political publication that i have loved for years, so to be asked to write this article was really exciting for me.

read and enjoy!

*   *   *

the contact photography festival is going on right now (alongside hot docs! agh! so much festival-jaculations, so little kleenex to go around), and phil and i found this amazing outdoor exhibit at front and spadina. this is like legal, permitted street art. but that doesn’t negate its potency or the raw, wild, untamed nature of the work. it’s ephemeral, and it’s free.

my two favourite things.

look at his eyes.

they follow you!

*  *  *

my office is located around queen and spadina, and i had heard that the last remaining banksy graffiti from his unannounced visit here last year was sitting right across the street from my daily-grindin’-desk. so after work last week, i went for a stroll to see what i could find.


this building is soon-to-be a hotel. how did i find that out?

as i stood on the lawn, overlooking banksy’s rat, the owner popped out and called out to me, “do you want to see what it looked like before it was defaced?”

“sure,” i said.


he walked over with a framed photograph of the banksy rat and said that the photo was taken the day it went up, and that the very next day, someone had defaced it with the word “love!” and other  nonsense.

it looks like he’s tried to restore it somewhat, but a lot of the strokes have been buried under someone else’s spray.


the owner then told me that he was offered $150,000 by some guy to cut out the bricks sporting the banksy rat, so he could add it to his collection, and the guy would replace the bricks and make it all nice again.

the owner told the guy “no, because this now belongs to the people of  toronto, not me.”

a man after my own heart.

the owner then let me in ON A BANKSY SECRET!

he said Banksy’s best mate from adolescence (from bristol? really?) lives just down the street from the hotel, that’s why Banksy was here last year, to visit him.

banksy apparently has plans to return this summer, and will make some art at the launch of the new hotel which will open in june.

i asked “when exactly will that be?”

“i don’t know,” he replied.

“if you did know, would you tell me?”

long pause.

“no.”


here’s the framed photo of what it looked like before it was defaced.

i gave the hotel owner my business card, and said he should contact me, you know, on the fly, if he wanted to give me a head’s up about, oh you know, whatever may happen this summer that i may or may not be interested in.

wink wink.

*  *  *

remember in my last post, i mentioned that some street art i found was done by fauxreel? i emailed him and said,

just a quick message to say that i’m a big fan of your work. i found one of your pieces recently on adelaide street near simcoe and blogged about it, and then realized that you’re also behind the two wheatpaste pieces of the open-mouthed kids on leslie just north of sheppard. i see those two pieces every day on my commute to work (i unfortunately live up there, lol!) and i love them so much because that area NEVER gets any thoughtful street art like that, and i think they’re brilliant.
congrats on all your success sir! uda man.
-Christine

Fauxreel replied! his real name is dan bergeron, and he said,

hi christine,

thanks for your note…
i’m glad you enjoy my work…
the pieces on leslie were part of a project i worked on with Artstarts for the Villawayz housing community…
it was great to put work up in a part of the city that rarely ever sees public art installations…
and the piece on adelaide was just something fun, part of a series called men at work, in which i install images of blue collar workers interacting with the urban landscape…
db

i officially have a new art-star to worship.

*   *   *

another reason why being a member of the press rules.

my media badge got me into the one and only, sold-out, capacity screening of Beats, Rhymes & Life: A Tribe Called Quest documentary at Hot Docs. watch the trailer, and get excited.


i’ve got love for you if you were born in the 80s

 on valentines day, NOW magazine had all these virgin mobile inserts you see here inside each copy. like little love/hate notes to give to your loved one/breaking-up-with one. so my friend andrew and i were hanging at Tequila Bookworm, picking out leaflet after leaflet from the NOW stack and just blowing these cards away at each other. we were literally pissing with laughter, i think the other tables thought us mad. great way to blitzkrieg the afternoon.

 that convenience store crack is a reference to a convo andy and i were having about this author i know. she’s japanese and sold her book to a publisher that used to buy only korean authors, but they changed the name of their publishing house so instead of “korean” it now says “variety.” so andrew quipped that it sounds like she sold her book to a convenience store. i PMSL. mostly because i hate her writing. she’s a nice lady, but her voice is trite and her talent is questionable. rant over. testing testing is this thing on?

this last one, he decided to write a sincere, nice one. 
awww. happy valentine’s bud. 
speaking of valentines, i was hanging out one-on-one with a man that i’ve kinda been playing a dance with for a little while now, ever since i saw him in a play and told him i liked his performance. then he got back to me and we kinda started talking. no big deal, but i guess something started to take hold, because he wanted to yap over coffee. so we did and it was lovely. super cool guy, we were having a nice long chat about theatre and life in toronto versus life in london (he lived there toooooooo!) and craigslist’s missed connections section, when this kid at the next table, who couldn’t have been more than 22, got up, interrupted us, and said, “i overheard your conversation about people in toronto not talking to anyone and about all the missed connections, so i thought i’d ask you out. i like your style.”

and i just look at the man sitting across from me, and then to the boy with the stretched earlobe piercings flopping down to his shoulders, and wanted to stab myself with a fork.

“ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn…” is i think what came out of my mouth. i was rendered absolutely speechless.

MOR.TI.FIED.

i couldn’t exactly say, “i’m with this man, sorry,” because we were just meeting for an innocent cuppa and i didn’t know if he’d freak out if i used him as an excuse (although he did tell me later that i could’ve said that, dammit). and the kid just wouldn’t stop trying to chat me up right in front of my coffee-partner! AWKWARD.

i took the kids number in an effort to get rid of him and to shut him up, nonetheless he wanted to stay and talk ignoring that i was clearly with someone else.

i guess that’s what i get for shooting my mouth off loud enough for people to hear.

anyhoo, the man in question and i moved cafes to another joint, and talked for about 3 hours. then he invited me to his one-man show over the weekend. it was actually more of a cabaret style performance. great showtunes and songs, piano music, stories and anecdotes about love, french pastries and wine, art on the walls, it was really something.

and his personal stories….they were funny, they were poignant….i got a little emotional.

during intermission, his old school teacher, who was sitting next to me, hovers over me and asks in a sing-songy voice, “are you his girlfriend?!”

i think i replied something along the lines of “ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn….”

you see this here passport. i’ve blogged about this several times before. bought the passport back in september when it first got started.

 AND LOOKY WHO JUST COMPLETED IT! in truth, most of the work was done in october, i was going to a new cafe like EVERY DAY in october cuz i was house sitting for max in parkdale and could just hop on my bike wherever i wanted when i was bored and enjoy a free cuppa with this pass. 
so favourite cafe discoveries? most of them were in the east end, a place most torontonians, for some reason, stay away from. go east, people, that place is hyyyype. 
these places got tops marks for vibe, atmosphere, friendliness, inspiring cozy decor, and of course, they’re top roasters.
Scraping the barrel shits on the list:
Cafe 260, Ground Level Cafe, Bisogno Cafe, Crema Coffee, Red Rocket Coffee (on Wellesley), and Linuxcaffe.
why were these ones the pitts? mostly because, although competent roasters, i didn’t like the vibe or sense of community (lack thereof) of the cafes. some cafes, although with nice decor inside and situated in good locations, don’t exactly have a nice, cosy, creative, inspiring vibe to them. they’re just kinda soul-less. linuxcaffe however, has a great vibe, but it’s on the shits list because my computer was hacked whilst using their unsecure-no-password-free-wifi (dude who hacked it sent me an email from my email account telling me he’d hacked it). mayjah stock plummeted as a result. 
 the indie coffee passport expires march 31st, so if you’re so inclined, there’s still time to buy one (from any of the cafes participating in it) and see for yourself. discover a new cafe. try a new drink. see if you can complete the passport like i did. toward the end of my indie coffee passport journey, every barista was inspecting my card and going “wow. this is the fullest card i’ve seen yet. you’ve checked out some great places.” 
damn straight. buzz is they’ll do this passport dealie again  next fall. suggest your favourite indie cafe to be added to the list!
oh sacha, behave.
again, another one of my tweets has gone viral. a few days ago, when the libyan clusterfuck hindenburg’d tripoli and gaddafi took to the airwaves for his shitstorm speech that bored everyone to death, i tweeted this. as you can see, it was RT’d 245 times within a few hours. i swear, sometimes the power of the internet surprises and shocks me. you say something, and if you have enough people paying attention, your ideas can reach out far beyond your initial estimation.
anyway, Gaddafi, you’re so old, you look like a klingon taking a shit. 

it’s my birfday this week oh gawd i’m turning thirrrrrrrrrrrty. you know, the only thing i don’t like about turning 30 is the way it sounds. people don’t like admitting their age because they don’t like how it sounds to others, but really, on the inside, i feel great. i actually ENJOY getting older. life feels more immediate. when i younger i was wracked with insecurities and i took so much for granted. now that i’m older, my problems are deeper, but i’m better equipped to handle them. i’m also filling each day with as much as i can, trying to enjoy all the people and the experiences that come into my life. people lie about their age because they’re worried about how OTHER people will perceive them and their station in society. but i know i look great (no wrinkles, no gray hair!), that most people mistake me for early twenties, that i haven’t lost my youthful vigour and enthusiasm, and i can’t imagine anything that will.
that being said, I am still technically 29 until March 2nd, dammit.
so i had a boozy brunch at the Gladstone Hotel to celebrate the milestone.

 sacha, dan and jonathan (& son Jacob)

so i was a bit worried at first that the 20-person-table i reserved at the Gladstone wouldn’t be filled because everyone kept bailing on me at the last minute (one of my friends actually messaged me to say he couldn’t make it because he had to “go to the gym.” people are such tools). but slowly the place started to fill with all of my lovely mates and we ended up having such a great time…until….

 teresa, kelly, and mads

…..i’ve mentioned in a previous post how there was this guy, this really ugly-sex guy that i made out with at sofi’s party a couple weeks ago, and how i’d probably have to start avoiding his calls, and texts. boy have i ever. not only has the dude been incessantly leaving me voicemails, or texting me, but he’s also been leaving me so many FB messages.

“hey sexy how are you?”
“hey what’s going on gorgeous?”
“have i told you how beautiful you are yet today?”

barf. i mean, these types of messages would be welcome if they weren’t from someone who looked like if you told him to go fuck himself, he’d give it a shot.

dude is terrifying.

and you would think that after all of his messages that i’ve been ignoring, he’d read between the lines and TAKE  A HINT but no.
 if the situation were reversed, and i kept texting and calling and FB messaging some guy with no response, i’d be labeled a “needy, desperate chick.” but when a guy does it, he’s just “assertive.’

joel, max, and reg

plus, it’s not like i can be at all flattered by his attention, seeing as how i’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s been sending the exact same messages to other girls that he fancies. dude got out of  a relationship recently, is obviously hurting, and now wants to be a man-whore with whoever he can find. but he probably shouldn’t be doing it with people who KNOW his ex-girlfriend.

so during the course of my boozy-brunch, when i’m having such a great time with my friends, and catching up, and being all squealy (i’m a squealer), guess who AMBUSHES it.

 sofi and patrick!

the look on my face clearly was one of shock and utter horror. WHO DOES THAT? who shows up, unannounced and clearly uninvited to someone’s birthday for the sole purpose of ambushing them. oh you won’t answer my desperate messages? guess i’ll go ruin your birthday!

and seeing as how we have some mutual friends (they’re MY friends, and his acquaintances-not-really), and they don’t know that he aggressively tried it on with me, they all starred at me when he arrived, wondering what the fuck he was doing there. and clearly when my look of oh-fuck-now-i-have-a-situation-on-my-hands burned across my cheeks, they probably knew something was up, and i will now hafta field some uncomfy questions.

 KEITH YOU RULE AT PHOTOBOMBS! oh hai jess and soph!

i was angry, i was mortified, but mostly i wanted to clobber him. if i had done that to a boy who was ignoring my texts, i’d be seen as a crazy psycho stalker.

so when most of my friends had left, he pulled me aside and asked “why are you ignoring meeeeeeeeee?”  wah wah wah, i’ll call the waaaaaaaaaaaambulance, dude.

do you really think you’re irresistable, you twat.

so in my most gentle voice that i usually reserve for 4-year-olds, i told him that getting it on with some bloke who used to date a girl i know isn’t for me. again, i assumed that by telling him this, he could read between the lines that I’M NOT INTERESTED. you are a douchey imbecile of the lowest order and you behave like a wife-beater.

instead, a few hours later after leaving, he sends me this FB message:

It was great to see you today. That dress looks exquisite on you, and makes your skin look delicious.

Thanks for filling me in, I must say I was disappointed I never heard from you. I was really excited to see you.

Anyway shhhhh…. discretion is the key:) I think your super sexy, wicked smart, and I like your style girl.

All the best babe.

regurgitate! regurgitate!
we bring up all the food we ate!
vee-ohh-emm-eye-teee
VOMIT

 that’s the crazy stalker ugmo ambusher. blurred for his anonymity and to protect his privacy. grossssss.

so i wrote back angrily and said that i’m glad we cleared things up, BUT MY BIRTHDAY WAS NOT THE APPROPRIATE TIME TO DO IT, you ruined my day.

ass.

and i don’t drink. ever. anyone who knows me, knows that i don’t touch alcohol. it’s just not my thing. but keith bought me a shot. so i downed it.

grant me patience. but please hurry.

i went to the press screening for Funkytown, a Canadian film in both english and french about montreal in the 1970s during the golden days of disco, and how different lifestyles of excess lead to the destruction of some, and the career-catapult for others. it stars Patrick Huard from Bon Cop Bad Cop fame. i think what i really liked about this film is it accurately portrayed the montreal that i grew up in (although i wasn’t alive in the 70s, the 80s did look and feel a lot like this). i really miss my life in quebec. just hearing the quebecois accent made me all giggly and googly-eyed.
and now i wanna watch Lance et Compte.

anyhoo, watch the Funkytown trailer here:

i’ve scored myself a ticket to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. now i’m definitely headed to NYC at the end of March.

epic win


>i’ve got love for you if you were born in the 80s

>

 on valentines day, NOW magazine had all these virgin mobile inserts you see here inside each copy. like little love/hate notes to give to your loved one/breaking-up-with one. so my friend andrew and i were hanging at Tequila Bookworm, picking out leaflet after leaflet from the NOW stack and just blowing these cards away at each other. we were literally pissing with laughter, i think the other tables thought us mad. great way to blitzkrieg the afternoon.

 that convenience store crack is a reference to a convo andy and i were having about this author i know. she’s japanese and sold her book to a publisher that used to buy only korean authors, but they changed the name of their publishing house so instead of “korean” it now says “variety.” so andrew quipped that it sounds like she sold her book to a convenience store. i PMSL. mostly because i hate her writing. she’s a nice lady, but her voice is trite and her talent is questionable. rant over. testing testing is this thing on?

this last one, he decided to write a sincere, nice one. 
awww. happy valentine’s bud. 
speaking of valentines, i was hanging out one-on-one with a man that i’ve kinda been playing a dance with for a little while now, ever since i saw him in a play and told him i liked his performance. then he got back to me and we kinda started talking. no big deal, but i guess something started to take hold, because he wanted to yap over coffee. so we did and it was lovely. super cool guy, we were having a nice long chat about theatre and life in toronto versus life in london (he lived there toooooooo!) and craigslist’s missed connections section, when this kid at the next table, who couldn’t have been more than 22, got up, interrupted us, and said, “i overheard your conversation about people in toronto not talking to anyone and about all the missed connections, so i thought i’d ask you out. i like your style.”

and i just look at the man sitting across from me, and then to the boy with the stretched earlobe piercings flopping down to his shoulders, and wanted to stab myself with a fork.

“ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn…” is i think what came out of my mouth. i was rendered absolutely speechless.

MOR.TI.FIED.

i couldn’t exactly say, “i’m with this man, sorry,” because we were just meeting for an innocent cuppa and i didn’t know if he’d freak out if i used him as an excuse (although he did tell me later that i could’ve said that, dammit). and the kid just wouldn’t stop trying to chat me up right in front of my coffee-partner! AWKWARD.

i took the kids number in an effort to get rid of him and to shut him up, nonetheless he wanted to stay and talk ignoring that i was clearly with someone else.

i guess that’s what i get for shooting my mouth off loud enough for people to hear.

anyhoo, the man in question and i moved cafes to another joint, and talked for about 3 hours. then he invited me to his one-man show over the weekend. it was actually more of a cabaret style performance. great showtunes and songs, piano music, stories and anecdotes about love, french pastries and wine, art on the walls, it was really something.

and his personal stories….they were funny, they were poignant….i got a little emotional.

during intermission, his old school teacher, who was sitting next to me, hovers over me and asks in a sing-songy voice, “are you his girlfriend?!”

i think i replied something along the lines of “ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn….”

you see this here passport. i’ve blogged about this several times before. bought the passport back in september when it first got started.

 AND LOOKY WHO JUST COMPLETED IT! in truth, most of the work was done in october, i was going to a new cafe like EVERY DAY in october cuz i was house sitting for max in parkdale and could just hop on my bike wherever i wanted when i was bored and enjoy a free cuppa with this pass. 
so favourite cafe discoveries? most of them were in the east end, a place most torontonians, for some reason, stay away from. go east, people, that place is hyyyype. 
these places got tops marks for vibe, atmosphere, friendliness, inspiring cozy decor, and of course, they’re top roasters.
Scraping the barrel shits on the list:
Cafe 260, Ground Level Cafe, Bisogno Cafe, Crema Coffee, Red Rocket Coffee (on Wellesley), and Linuxcaffe.
why were these ones the pitts? mostly because, although competent roasters, i didn’t like the vibe or sense of community (lack thereof) of the cafes. some cafes, although with nice decor inside and situated in good locations, don’t exactly have a nice, cosy, creative, inspiring vibe to them. they’re just kinda soul-less. linuxcaffe however, has a great vibe, but it’s on the shits list because my computer was hacked whilst using their unsecure-no-password-free-wifi (dude who hacked it sent me an email from my email account telling me he’d hacked it). mayjah stock plummeted as a result. 
 the indie coffee passport expires march 31st, so if you’re so inclined, there’s still time to buy one (from any of the cafes participating in it) and see for yourself. discover a new cafe. try a new drink. see if you can complete the passport like i did. toward the end of my indie coffee passport journey, every barista was inspecting my card and going “wow. this is the fullest card i’ve seen yet. you’ve checked out some great places.” 
damn straight. buzz is they’ll do this passport dealie again  next fall. suggest your favourite indie cafe to be added to the list!
oh sacha, behave.
again, another one of my tweets has gone viral. a few days ago, when the libyan clusterfuck hindenburg’d tripoli and gaddafi took to the airwaves for his shitstorm speech that bored everyone to death, i tweeted this. as you can see, it was RT’d 245 times within a few hours. i swear, sometimes the power of the internet surprises and shocks me. you say something, and if you have enough people paying attention, your ideas can reach out far beyond your initial estimation.
anyway, Gaddafi, you’re so old, you look like a klingon taking a shit. 

it’s my birfday this week oh gawd i’m turning thirrrrrrrrrrrty. you know, the only thing i don’t like about turning 30 is the way it sounds. people don’t like admitting their age because they don’t like how it sounds to others, but really, on the inside, i feel great. i actually ENJOY getting older. life feels more immediate. when i younger i was wracked with insecurities and i took so much for granted. now that i’m older, my problems are deeper, but i’m better equipped to handle them. i’m also filling each day with as much as i can, trying to enjoy all the people and the experiences that come into my life. people lie about their age because they’re worried about how OTHER people will perceive them and their station in society. but i know i look great (no wrinkles, no gray hair!), that most people mistake me for early twenties, that i haven’t lost my youthful vigour and enthusiasm, and i can’t imagine anything that will.
that being said, I am still technically 29 until March 2nd, dammit.
so i had a boozy brunch at the Gladstone Hotel to celebrate the milestone.

 sacha, dan and jonathan (& son Jacob)

so i was a bit worried at first that the 20-person-table i reserved at the Gladstone wouldn’t be filled because everyone kept bailing on me at the last minute (one of my friends actually messaged me to say he couldn’t make it because he had to “go to the gym.” people are such tools). but slowly the place started to fill with all of my lovely mates and we ended up having such a great time…until….

 teresa, kelly, and mads

…..i’ve mentioned in a previous post how there was this guy, this really ugly-sex guy that i made out with at sofi’s party a couple weeks ago, and how i’d probably have to start avoiding his calls, and texts. boy have i ever. not only has the dude been incessantly leaving me voicemails, or texting me, but he’s also been leaving me so many FB messages.

“hey sexy how are you?”
“hey what’s going on gorgeous?”
“have i told you how beautiful you are yet today?”

barf. i mean, these types of messages would be welcome if they weren’t from someone who looked like if you told him to go fuck himself, he’d give it a shot.

dude is terrifying.

and you would think that after all of his messages that i’ve been ignoring, he’d read between the lines and TAKE  A HINT but no.
 if the situation were reversed, and i kept texting and calling and FB messaging some guy with no response, i’d be labeled a “needy, desperate chick.” but when a guy does it, he’s just “assertive.’

joel, max, and reg

plus, it’s not like i can be at all flattered by his attention, seeing as how i’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s been sending the exact same messages to other girls that he fancies. dude got out of  a relationship recently, is obviously hurting, and now wants to be a man-whore with whoever he can find. but he probably shouldn’t be doing it with people who KNOW his ex-girlfriend.

so during the course of my boozy-brunch, when i’m having such a great time with my friends, and catching up, and being all squealy (i’m a squealer), guess who AMBUSHES it.

 sofi and patrick!

the look on my face clearly was one of shock and utter horror. WHO DOES THAT? who shows up, unannounced and clearly uninvited to someone’s birthday for the sole purpose of ambushing them. oh you won’t answer my desperate messages? guess i’ll go ruin your birthday!

and seeing as how we have some mutual friends (they’re MY friends, and his acquaintances-not-really), and they don’t know that he aggressively tried it on with me, they all starred at me when he arrived, wondering what the fuck he was doing there. and clearly when my look of oh-fuck-now-i-have-a-situation-on-my-hands burned across my cheeks, they probably knew something was up, and i will now hafta field some uncomfy questions.

 KEITH YOU RULE AT PHOTOBOMBS! oh hai jess and soph!

i was angry, i was mortified, but mostly i wanted to clobber him. if i had done that to a boy who was ignoring my texts, i’d be seen as a crazy psycho stalker.

so when most of my friends had left, he pulled me aside and asked “why are you ignoring meeeeeeeeee?”  wah wah wah, i’ll call the waaaaaaaaaaaambulance, dude.

do you really think you’re irresistable, you twat.

so in my most gentle voice that i usually reserve for 4-year-olds, i told him that getting it on with some bloke who used to date a girl i know isn’t for me. again, i assumed that by telling him this, he could read between the lines that I’M NOT INTERESTED. you are a douchey imbecile of the lowest order and you behave like a wife-beater.

instead, a few hours later after leaving, he sends me this FB message:

It was great to see you today. That dress looks exquisite on you, and makes your skin look delicious.

Thanks for filling me in, I must say I was disappointed I never heard from you. I was really excited to see you.

Anyway shhhhh…. discretion is the key:) I think your super sexy, wicked smart, and I like your style girl.

All the best babe.

regurgitate! regurgitate!
we bring up all the food we ate!
vee-ohh-emm-eye-teee
VOMIT

 that’s the crazy stalker ugmo ambusher. blurred for his anonymity and to protect his privacy. grossssss.

so i wrote back angrily and said that i’m glad we cleared things up, BUT MY BIRTHDAY WAS NOT THE APPROPRIATE TIME TO DO IT, you ruined my day.

ass.

and i don’t drink. ever. anyone who knows me, knows that i don’t touch alcohol. it’s just not my thing. but keith bought me a shot. so i downed it.

grant me patience. but please hurry.

i went to the press screening for Funkytown, a Canadian film in both english and french about montreal in the 1970s during the golden days of disco, and how different lifestyles of excess lead to the destruction of some, and the career-catapult for others. it stars Patrick Huard from Bon Cop Bad Cop fame. i think what i really liked about this film is it accurately portrayed the montreal that i grew up in (although i wasn’t alive in the 70s, the 80s did look and feel a lot like this). i really miss my life in quebec. just hearing the quebecois accent made me all giggly and googly-eyed.
and now i wanna watch Lance et Compte.

anyhoo, watch the Funkytown trailer here:

i’ve scored myself a ticket to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. now i’m definitely headed to NYC at the end of March.

epic win


honey, sometimes love means getting a little rough

i kinda broke the interbone testing testing is this thing on.

a few days ago i posted this TwitPic (which i originally found here) and within a few hours it had gone viral. my original tweet about it has been RT’d at last count almost 400 times, and the TwitPic itself, at last count, had just surpassed 30,000 views. i’m extremely humbled and awed at this moment by the power of the internet. other people posted the same photo on their picture-sharing sites, but for some reason, my TwitPic is the one being sent around the world. i can’t keep up with all the comments and messages flowing in on my end, so i’ll just say thank you to everyone for spreading the word, and keeping the plight of the Egyptian people in your thoughts. i don’t take credit at all for the photo, but by sharing it, we are defying those authorities who would wish to suppress the sharing of information, the truth, and the severity of the situation.

this reminds me of the G20 here in toronto this past summer. while it’s true that no one was killed in Toronto by the governing authorities, the brutality of the police, the illegal actions taken by the government to suppress political protests and the right of assembly, and the information ban, bears a striking similarity.

get political.

if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.

check out my live concert review of last night’s White Lies gig at the Mod Club. while i am a huge fan, i had to be objective, even though i had a great time at the concert. they lost serious points with me. what do you think? were you there? comments and feedback much appreciated.

harry you look like a Priest in this shot
i made this video compilation of the concert last night, it features three of their songs. it’s apparent that we the audience had more energy than the band, but also apparent, how fucking great their songs are. 
hellyeahfuckyeah.
tune up, tune down.

i took all these photos except where noted. i have a shitty sony cyber-shot camera from 2006 that i bought whilst in Berlin for about 150 and yet somehow i’m able to manipulate it to take some great shots. i’m quite proud of these babies. 



when i concentrate, i am an awesomesauce photographer. true story.

i love this shot. go me.

if Harry can strum his guitar against his pelvis like that, just imagine what he could do to me.

this is when i started to get aroused.

basking in Harry’s warm glowing warming glow

haw haw haw

 . . . annnnnnnnd i’m spent.

*   *   *

so the other night was Strip Spelling Bee with sofi and sherwin. for those of you who were there, i was the ‘ring girl’ who held up the ’round 1, 2, 3..” signs in between each cycle. i have absolutely no photos from this event because, to protect the privacy and security of the spellers, no photos at all were allowed.

so there’s no photographic evidence of me splitting my skirt on stage….whilst wearing absolutely no underwear.

good times.

i was live-tweeting the event however, and many of you appreciated all of my “boom-boom” & “doodle” euphemisms. i saw so many unshaven boom-booms and doodles, i felt like i was in a ron jeremy flick.

at one point i yelled out (and tweeted) LESS TALK, MORE COCK.

i really should have that written on a T-shirt. sums up my social life rather accurately.

this photo was taken of me by photographer Becca Lemire at the Gladstone Hotel’s 5th anniversary party and is up on Toronto’s best blog (as voted by Now Magazine’s readers) She Does The City!

“my heart was hot within me: while i was musing, the fire burned.” -39th psalm of david


>honey, sometimes love means getting a little rough

>

i kinda broke the interbone testing testing is this thing on.

a few days ago i posted this TwitPic (which i originally found here) and within a few hours it had gone viral. my original tweet about it has been RT’d at last count almost 400 times, and the TwitPic itself, at last count, had just surpassed 30,000 views. i’m extremely humbled and awed at this moment by the power of the internet. other people posted the same photo on their picture-sharing sites, but for some reason, my TwitPic is the one being sent around the world. i can’t keep up with all the comments and messages flowing in on my end, so i’ll just say thank you to everyone for spreading the word, and keeping the plight of the Egyptian people in your thoughts. i don’t take credit at all for the photo, but by sharing it, we are defying those authorities who would wish to suppress the sharing of information, the truth, and the severity of the situation.

this reminds me of the G20 here in toronto this past summer. while it’s true that no one was killed in Toronto by the governing authorities, the brutality of the police, the illegal actions taken by the government to suppress political protests and the right of assembly, and the information ban, bears a striking similarity.

get political.

if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.

check out my live concert review of last night’s White Lies gig at the Mod Club. while i am a huge fan, i had to be objective, even though i had a great time at the concert. they lost serious points with me. what do you think? were you there? comments and feedback much appreciated.

harry you look like a Priest in this shot
i made this video compilation of the concert last night, it features three of their songs. it’s apparent that we the audience had more energy than the band, but also apparent, how fucking great their songs are. 
hellyeahfuckyeah.
tune up, tune down.

i took all these photos except where noted. i have a shitty sony cyber-shot camera from 2006 that i bought whilst in Berlin for about 150 and yet somehow i’m able to manipulate it to take some great shots. i’m quite proud of these babies. 



when i concentrate, i am an awesomesauce photographer. true story.

i love this shot. go me.

if Harry can strum his guitar against his pelvis like that, just imagine what he could do to me.

this is when i started to get aroused.

basking in Harry’s warm glowing warming glow

haw haw haw

 . . . annnnnnnnd i’m spent.

*   *   *

so the other night was Strip Spelling Bee with sofi and sherwin. for those of you who were there, i was the ‘ring girl’ who held up the ’round 1, 2, 3..” signs in between each cycle. i have absolutely no photos from this event because, to protect the privacy and security of the spellers, no photos at all were allowed.

so there’s no photographic evidence of me splitting my skirt on stage….whilst wearing absolutely no underwear.

good times.

i was live-tweeting the event however, and many of you appreciated all of my “boom-boom” & “doodle” euphemisms. i saw so many unshaven boom-booms and doodles, i felt like i was in a ron jeremy flick.

at one point i yelled out (and tweeted) LESS TALK, MORE COCK.

i really should have that written on a T-shirt. sums up my social life rather accurately.

this photo was taken of me by photographer Becca Lemire at the Gladstone Hotel’s 5th anniversary party and is up on Toronto’s best blog (as voted by Now Magazine’s readers) She Does The City!

“my heart was hot within me: while i was musing, the fire burned.” -39th psalm of david